Fire and Rain
by jennykate75
Summary: Destiny brings Baelfire and Morraine together as friends, but derails them as they are about to become something more. Rumplestiltskin is not the only one working to reunite with Baelfire - but the world's most powerful wizard is no match against a teenage girl in love.
1. Destiny

Four-year old Morraine watched from her window as a father and son about her age moved in next door as inconspicuously as possible. They looked poor and carried very little besides a large spinning wheel, and no one noticed their arrival except her. The father seemed to want it that way — to go unnoticed by society; he refused to look anyone in the eye. But nothing ever escaped Morraine's notice, much to the neighborhood's chagrin.

She climbed down the ladder of her loft and wondered how she could meet them. Her eyes landed on the meat pie her mother had left cooling on the windowsill; perhaps that could be her ticket in.

She knocked on their front door, holding her excuse to say hello. The young boy answered. Morraine liked him instantly.

"Hi," she greeted shyly. "I'm Morraine. I live next door and ..." Her voice trailed off apprehensively. She held up the pie. "I, um, brought you some dinner."

Morraine noticed that the boy's upper lip had a pronounced divet which gave his mouth a pleasing bow shape, especially when he bit his lower lip like he was doing right now. He stared at her without saying a word. Morraine wiped her face, worrying that she must have something smeared on it, as her mother was always telling her. She fidgeted nervously, waiting for him to say something. Finally his father appeared at the door and introduced himself as Rumplestiltskin and the boy as Baelfire. Rumplestiltskin took the pie, thanked her for it and suggested that Baelfire join Morraine outside to play.

"Yes, Papa," Baelfire agreed, and Morraine was relieved to hear him speak. They started walking down the street in silence. Baelfire was an odd duck. Why wasn't he talking to her?

"How old are you?" she asked in an attempt to make conversation.

"Four." He held up four fingers proudly. "But I'll be five next month." He extended his thumb to show his exposed palm.

Morraine's eyes widened. "Me too. When is your birthday?"

"April 19."

"Mine is April 16, so I am …" she concentrated hard and counted on her fingers, "… three days older than you. That means I'm the more …" she scratched her head, trying to remember the big word her parents used with her. She carefully enunciated each syllable, "… re-spon-si-ble one."

He grinned in awe. "Wow, you can do math AND you know big words?"

She nodded. "Of course. But don't feel bad. It's because I'm older than you. You may know all that same stuff when you get to be my age."

They walked around the village and Morraine gave him the extended tour, taking a full two minutes. Baelfire gradually became more comfortable around her and her friendly manner. Afterwards they lay in the field behind their homes and picked the grass from the ground.

"Where's your Mama?" Morraine asked.

Baelfire looked at his feet. "Papa says she died when I was little."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Morraine answered uncomfortably. "Is it hard not to have a Mama?" she asked.

"I don't know," Baelfire shrugged. "I've never known what it's like to have one."

"Oh, they do all kinds of good stuff," Morraine attested. "They cook and they clean, they take care of you when you are sick and they kiss boo-boos better. They just gen-er-al-ly look out for you." Morraine liked showcasing her burgeoning vocabulary, but she especially liked doing it in front of this new boy.

"Papa does that all that for me," Baelfire confirmed. "But I don't need him to kiss boo-boos. That's a girl thing."

Morraine looked at him skeptically. Everybody needed boo-boos kissed from time to time. "Well, if you ever do get a boo-boo that needs kissing, I can do it for you. How's that?"

She expected him to scoff. But instead he smiled widely at her offer. "Okay."

When she arrived home, she was forced to go to bed without dinner for having given the family's meat pie away. She cried in her room, her head buried in her arms against the windowsill. When she looked up, she saw Baelfire's concerned face in his bedroom window. He opened his loft window and she opened hers, wiping the tears away from her face in embarrassment.

"Why are you crying?" he asked.

"Because I gave you our dinner when I wasn't supposed to and I'm being punished," she answered.

"Oh," he said. Then he closed the window and disappeared.

Morraine cried bitterly again until she heard a muffled voice through her window. She opened it and ducked out of the way as a bundle breezed by her head and landed on her floor with a thud. She rushed toward it and untied the cloth around it. She gasped and laughed.

Baelfire had thrown her bread, cheese and a piece of peppermint candy.

She popped her head back up to the windowsill. "Thank you."

He nodded and smiled.

Since that first day, they were inseparable. They spent their time in the field behind their homes playing pirates or pretending to fight trolls, and their nights conversing at the window when they should have been sleeping. If they had any money, they'd purchase candy from Mr. Carothers' cart. Occasionally Mr. Carothers featured toys for sale and one day when they were six years old, he offered a well-crafted leather ball.

"Man, I'd like to have something like that someday," Baelfire confessed.

"Why don't you buy it?" Morraine asked.

Baelfire shook his head sadly. "Papa has to save every penny. We didn't sell as much wool at Longbourne as we would have liked last season." He sighed. "Papa is too timid to be a very good salesman. Maybe if next season is better." He sadly shuffled away from the display.

Morraine stared at the ball and resolved to save her pennies to buy it for him. That meant no candy for however long that took. So the next week when they visited the cart and Baelfire spent the penny he got from the Tooth Fairy on candy, she steadfastly shook her head.

"Nothing for me today, thanks."

Baelfire looked at her skeptically. "What's going on? You love candy."

"I don't have any money," she lied.

"You got some from the Tooth Fairy yesterday," Baelfire countered, "just like me."

"I just don't want any right now," she lied. It was torture for a six year old to go without candy with such a plethora in front of her. But she found it comforting staring at the ball. That was the end goal.

Baelfire distracted her by twirling a licorice whip in her line of vision. "So I guess if I offered you this, you wouldn't take it, huh?"

Morraine winced. "I…" She had to remain strong. She crossed her arms. "You're right, I wouldn't."

But Baelfire knew better. His toothless grin made Morraine's heart melt. "Even though I know they are your favorite?"

Morraine's eyes widened, impressed at his memory. "I think I'd …" But she couldn't lie to Baelfire. She sighed and took the proffered stick. "Maybe I'll take just one."

He smiled. Then he counted out the licorice sticks and presented half of them to her.

She stared at them with mouth agape. "But that candy is yours!"

He shrugged. "Papa says I eat too much anyway. You and I can split it from now on."

Morraine shook her head slowly in wonder. "But that's not fair if you're the one who is always paying and then only getting half of it!"

He smiled. "Mr. Petruvia says you know you're a man when half of your pay is going toward a woman." He puffed his six-year-old chest out proudly. "So I'll just be a man a little sooner than most."

After a month, she had finally saved enough for the ball. As soon as her father presented her with the last required penny for having scrubbed the floors in his wood shop, she ran to Mr. Carothers' cart without waiting for Baelfire, terrified that the ball was already sold. But the ball still rested in the same spot on the cart, and she paid for it proudly with her hard-earned pennies.

"Aye, is this why you haven't been buying from me?" Mr. Carothers asked, raising an eyebrow.

She nodded and hugged the ball to her chest. "It's a gift. For a friend."

"Mmhmm," Mr. Carothers answered with a knowing smile.

She arrived home just as Baelfire stepped out his front door. His eyes widened when he saw the ball she carried.

"Wow, you bought it! Good for you — that's a beaut."

Morraine was never at a loss for her words, but she certainly was this morning.

"I … I …" she stuttered.

"Do you think I could borrow it sometime?" he asked, admiring it in her hands.

"N… no, because…"

Baelfire's face fell. "Oh. Well, that's okay. I just …"

Morraine winced. She found her voice and sputtered a loud, nonsensical "You can't borrow it because I bought it for YOU!" The townspeople turned and looked at her oddly. She cringed.

Baelfire's mouth gaped. "It's … for me?"

She extended her hands and he took it, examining it in awe.

Finally he looked up at her, his eyes sparkling. "Is this why you haven't been buying candy?" he asked.

She looked at her feet demurely, unable to meet his intense gaze, and kicked the dirt. "Yes," she sheepishly admitted.

She bit her lip and waited for him to speak. He didn't say a word. She was reminded of their first meeting when he remained steadfastly silent.

She nervously met his gaze. Their eyes locked and she suddenly found herself swimming in his deep dark depths.

"Then it's not mine," he finally said. "It's ours."

A smile slowly crept across Morraine's face until she was practically beaming. There was something special and sacred in the word 'ours.' She replayed his words in her head and started to feel her knees go weak.

Baelfire exhaled and looked away, breaking the spell. He threw the ball into the air and caught it. "Come on, let's go play kickball." He turned and started running. "Last one to the field is a gooseberry!" he yelled behind him.

She chased after him, the strange sensation dissipating and soon forgotten; each running step returning her to childhood. Glimpses of feelings to come sprouted at odd times over the next few years, but Baelfire usually broke the reverie by punching Morraine in the arm.

"Why do you keep punching me?" she pouted, rubbing her bicep.

"I dunno," he answered with a shrug. "Just seems like the right thing to do."

Despite the occasional insensitivity, Baelfire sometimes surprised her with his thoughtfulness — like when he presented Morraine with a wool hat he made for her eighth birthday.

"I started it in December so I could be sure to have it finished in time. It was cold then." He scratched the back of his head anxiously. "Maybe you could wear it next winter?"

Morraine responded by wearing it proudly for the entire warm April day — and ignoring the children who taunted her for it. On her way home that evening, she heard Mrs. Petruvia talking to Mrs. Smithers.

"It's no coincidence they are named 'Fire and 'Rain. Elements of the gods. Those two were brought together for a reason."

"Yes," Mrs. Smithers agreed. "They are certainly destined for each other."

Morraine's stomach flip-flopped in pleasure and terror at their words.

Did Destiny care about her — enough to have a path planned for her involving Baelfire?

"Papa, how do you know what your destiny is?" she asked when she arrived home.

Her father laughed. "Well, the point of destiny is that you don't know. It just happens no matter what you do."

"But how do you know that what you're doing is destiny's way?"

"That's the thing about destiny. You don't know. You just do," he explained. "Destiny acts through you. You don't even think about it."

Morraine bit her lip as she assessed her father's words. So actions were the key cause. A lot of what she did with Baelfire was without thought. Like saving to buy the ball; she didn't really decide to do it — it was just a given that she would. Was destiny something like that?

As eight-year-old Morraine pondered the meaning of destiny, she didn't realize the detour it had in store.


	2. That Awkward Age

Just before her thirteenth birthday, Morraine discovered the pitfalls of puberty. Becoming a woman was nowhere near as graceful as she thought it would be.

"Ugh, I hate this!" she cursed one morning when she awoke with a bad case of cramps. "Boys don't have to deal with any of this stuff! They don't have to worry about these THINGS," she pointed in dismay at the growing buds on her chest, "getting in the way of everything you try to do, or having a 'monthly visitor'. Gosh, they have it so easy!"

Her father roared with laughter. "Oh Morraine, boys have different challenges at that age, trust me on that one."

Morraine's eyebrows rose in curiosity. "Like what?" she asked.

Her father rubbed his chin and tried to put his thoughts into words delicately. "Well, at that age, things happen to them unexpectedly and outside of their control at inopportune times. And always first thing in the morning."

Intrigued, Morraine opened her mouth to speak, but her father raised his hand.

"And that's all you need to know about that," he interrupted. "You are still too young."

But later that day, her curiosity caused her to ask Baelfire if "something weird" was happening to his body, reiterating the clues her father gave her.

Baelfire blanched. "Yeah, kinda," he squirmed. She received the distinct impression that she was not allowed to question what "something weird" entailed.

"And does it happen at strange times too?" she asked innocently.

He shrugged. "Sometimes it happens around Shelby Smithers. Or Corinne Carothers."

Morraine frowned. Shelby and Corinne were the two prettiest girls in the village. Whatever this thing was, it had to be directly related to beauty.

"You act like an idiot around them," she noted.

Baelfire glared at her and turned away.

"Does it ever happen around me?" Morraine asked hopefully.

Baelfire's eyes widened in terror. He pursed his lips and looked at the ground. "Well … do you ever notice me acting like an idiot around you?"

Morraine's brow furrowed in thought. "No. Not like with them."

Baelfire exhaled quickly and grinned. "Then there's your answer."

While Baelfire returned to his normal, happy self, Morraine was heart-broken. It didn't happen around her? Then Baelfire must not think she was pretty! To him she was just another friend, albeit a best friend – completely androgenous.

Her mother noticed her melancholy, and correctly ascertained its source.

"Honey, boys mature a lot slower than girls," she explained, "not just physically but emotionally. They don't understand what they are going through, especially at the age of 13."

"But I don't understand what I'M going through!" Morraine bemoaned.

Her mother smiled. "Exactly. And you're more self aware than Baelfire is."

Morraine blushed at the mention of his name. Her mother was no fool.

Two evenings before her fourteenth birthday, Morraine climbed the ladder to her loft after a hot bath. Her parents were across the road at her father's wood shop. They had been acting strangely lately, very snappish, and she was happy she could bathe in peace. Her thoughts of being taken away for battle were bad enough without the added burden of having to assuage her parents' fears.

She sat at her vanity table and looked in her mirror as she combed her wet hair. She gasped when she noticed the amount of cleavage showing through her robe; where had THAT come from? She derobed and assessed her changing figure in the mirror. She felt like a monster with all these hideous curves. She made a face and quickly threw her nightgown over her head.

An almost inhuman howl outside her window startled her. It sounded like her father; she'd never heard him that cross before. She turned toward the window and saw a flash of movement in Baelfire's room. She opened her window and heard a crash coming from the house. She stuck her head outside and craned her neck as she watched Baelfire run out his front door, her father in close pursuit.

She ran to the ladder and was about to descend as her mother opened the front door and started climbing the ladder instead.

"Mama, what's going on?" Morraine asked. She rushed back to the window as her father's shouts intensified. He tugged Baelfire by the ear back to the boy's front door. Rumplestiltskin stood outside looking perplexed as her father laid into the spinner.

"If you actually paid attention to your boy, and didn't spend so much time in such a catatonic state spinning…" her father chided.

Her mother closed the window Morraine had just opened.

"Please tell me what's going on," Morraine pleaded. "Why is Papa so mad at Baelfire?"

Her mother closed the curtains and held them as if she anticipated they'd open of their own accord. She squeezed her eyes shut and pursed her lips before gently stating, "From now on when you're getting dressed, you need to make sure these are closed."

Morraine's stomach felt like it dropped to the floor. Her mouth suddenly became dry. So Baelfire had been watching her? She blinked, unsure how such news made her feel. Embarrassed, most definitely. Frightened as well. Exposed. But mostly, she couldn't stop wondering what he thought when he saw her — and whether it was positive. It was probably too much to hope for, since she didn't see what was so great about the weird changes to her body. Curves were fine on Shelby Smithers and Corinne Carothers, but her curves made her feel like a freak.

The next day Baelfire ignored her and Morraine knew she had her answer: He was obviously horrified of what he saw. He played kickball with the other boys — with the ball she had bought, no less — while girls like Shelby and Corrine giggled from the sidelines. Morraine was disgusted, feeling like she'd been kicked as much as that ball, and walked in the woods to clear her mind. When she headed home for supper later, she saw Baelfire ahead walking between Shelby and Corrine, the ball tucked protectively under his arm. She sighed. Would he ever speak to her again? Would he even want to?

That night she peeked out her closed curtains, but Baelfire's shades were drawn and he did not show for their usual nighttime chat. She slept poorly in anticipation of her birthday the next morning. Her parents were agitated, awaiting her summons to the Ogre Wars at any moment. She couldn't deal with them, not when she felt so badly at the loss of Baelfire's company.

She rose with the dawn, dressed and disembarked. She roamed the forest and reflected on her 14 years of life. What would the next 14 years bring? She remembered the gossipy women of her youth who spoke of the inevitability of her and Baelfire as a couple. HA! Not likely under present circumstances, that's for sure.

Due to the lack of sleep and few hours' stroll, she rested in a bed of pine needles by the river's edge. She stared at the blue and red specks of sky that the branches failed to obscure. Her eyelids were growing heavy when a snapping twig jolted her awake. She bolted upright and turned toward the noise. Baelfire stood in front of her.

His eyes widened in panic. He surveyed her from head to toe, blinked, and shook his head in a failed attempt to erase the image he held of her. "I wasn't spying, I promise! I … I was just walking by and … and …" His agitation grew as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I swear I didn't know you'd be here!"

She turned her back to him, her voice unsteady as his words felt like a slap. "Sure. If you had your way you'd be as far away from me as possible."

Baelfire paused, unsure how to reply. She squinted her eyes shut to quell the tears, but they refused to be contained, and in the end she was forced to release a tiny sob.

"You're crying," he noted with empathy.

"No, I'm not," she answered defiantly with a sniff.

Baelfire approached and sat beside her. "Why? Is it because you're 14 now?" She knew this was his delicate way of mentioning the Ogre Wars draft.

"No. Well, yes, some. But mostly it's because my best friend thinks I'm hideous." She could feel the sobs returning and she brought her knees to her chest to conceal them.

"What?" he asked incredulously. "I don't think you're hideous! I… I just figured you didn't want to talk to me after …" His voice trailed off and he sighed heavily. He had things he needed to say and now seemed as good a time as any. His shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it. It was stupid. I didn't mean to." He looked pained as he stared at his feet and his voice cracked with emotion. "You can keep hating me if you want."

Morraine blinked as she processed his apology. She bit her lower lip trying to put a confusing jumble of thoughts and feelings into words. "I … I don't hate you. I never have." She stopped her analysis there and gulped.

Baelfire turned to her. "But you avoided me all day yesterday!"

Morraine's eyes widened. "No, YOU avoided ME all day yesterday!"

Baelfire looked at the ground and shook his head in disbelief. He kicked at a protruding tree root and sighed. "Well, your papa hates me, that's for sure."

Morraine wiped away her tears. "He'll get over it," she declared with certainty.

She lay back on the ground and Baelfire joined her. A comfortable, relieved silence followed as they stared at the branches swaying in the wind.

Baelfire spoke first. "Oh, um… I," he sat up and reached into his pouch, pulling out a piece of cloth wrapped around something. "… I made you this for your birthday."

Morraine sat up and took it from him.

"I was going to leave it on your doorstep," he explained, "if you still weren't talking to me by tonight."

Morraine removed the cloth and found a beaded necklace with leather strand. She gasped as she held it up. "Oh Baelfire, thank you! It's beautiful!"

He grinned.

"Can you put it on me?" she asked, scooting her back towards him and pulling her long blonde hair to the side.

As he tied the strand, his fingers lightly brushed the back of her neck, sending a tingle down her spine. She turned back around and tried to ignore the goose bumps that encompassed her.

"Happy birthday," he smiled.

She beamed and blushed. "Thank you."

"MORRAINE!"

They jumped, thinking at first that the voice was Morraine's father. But it was much worse. This wasn't just a voice of anger.

It was a voice of evil.

Without thinking, they joined hands and ran through the woods until they reached the clearing. Morraine could see her parents sobbing — and the soldiers getting restless.

"Where is Morraine?" the duke snarled. "We are here to collect her!"

Morraine turned to Baelfire and the two exchanged a glance that spoke volumes. He gulped and she squeezed his hand to assure him. She closed her eyes and forced herself to memorize the feel of his hand in hers. As she did, her mind cleared and suddenly she understood what she had been too young to fathom all along.

No matter what happened to her, no matter what she faced in the trenches or on the battlefield, her heart would always belong to Baelfire.

She clutched the necklace with her free hand and found her strength and courage. She turned back to Baelfire with one last glance. This time he squeezed her hand, the emotions on his face palpable. She knew that if she suggested they live together in hiding deep in the forest, he'd readily agree to it.

She nodded. "Let's go," she whispered.

They ran the rest of the way through the field and stopped in front of the duke. Morraine released Baelfire's hand. As soon as she did, he ran back to his hut. She instantly regretted letting him go. She reached for her necklace instead and held it tenderly.

"I am Morraine," she answered. She felt unnaturally calm. She knew this day would come. She was prepared to face it bravely.

The duke sneered and pulled her up onto his horse with him. From her perch, she looked at her parents to say goodbye, but they were too overwhelmed with grief to notice. They fought to get her back, and the Dark One punished them, nearly killing them.

Please let me go, Morraine tried to tell them telepathically. Let me do this for you. She then noticed Baelfire hadn't abandoned her; he'd only run to retrieve his father for comfort.

Look at me, look at me one last time, Baelfire, she tried to tell him. He did briefly and she tried to communicate a lifetime of feelings in one quick glance. But then the duke dug his heels into his horse and she was off to the battlefields where her life would change forever.


	3. The Rescue

For four months Morraine manned the trenches, discovering a resolve within herself that she never thought possible. And every day for those four months, she scanned the new recruits, looking for Baelfire — each night relieved when he didn't appear. He haunted her dreams as days of their childhood exploits mixed with warzone visions.

One morning as she dozed between battles, falling into a restless slumber from utter exhaustion, she heard Rumplestiltskin's voice. There was a different cadence to it, but it was undeniably his.

"Wake up, wake up, Morraine!" a fellow trenchmate shook her. "The war is over. We are being freed!"

It wasn't a dream; she had indeed heard Rumplestiltskin's voice. She peeked over the edge of the trench and spied him, his skin glittering and his eyes boring into all he surveyed. He stood confidently and resolutely, himself but not himself at the same time.

Teens were running past her now, through the trenches and out onto the field. She stood transfixed, trying to comprehend all that was happening.

And that's when she saw Baelfire.

She thought she was hallucinating, mixing fact with fiction. He rushed past the children, encouraging them to move and follow his father home.

But he was doing more than that. He was turning, scanning, looking for someone frantically.

And that's when Morraine realized one truth in the universe, and it struck her like an ogre's mace to the torso.

Baelfire did not come to save the other children. He did not convince his father to come merely because it was the right thing to do.

He came for her. And her alone.

His eyes met hers and lit up like the stars she spent her evenings after battle wishing on. She inhaled sharply and forgot to exhale. He fought the tide of child soldiers to reach her. He stood in front of her just as breathless as she and grinned down upon her.

"I came to rescue you," he confirmed.

They hugged and held each other tightly. Her heart rate increased and her knees wobbled. Lack of sleep and nutrition, she told herself. She pulled away to address him, to thank him for coming for her. Her mind went blank as she realized how close her face was to his. She looked into his eyes and he looked into hers. Their faces started to inch toward each other.

SMACK! A group of teen girls running by knocked Morraine off balance. Baelfire's arms kept her from falling.

"I've got you," he said, steadying her.

"Yes," she whispered breathlessly. "Yes, yes, you do."

The crowd surrounding them intensified and they were forced to move apart. Baelfire looked ahead and waved at his father who was patiently waiting for him. They made their way through the crowd towards him and discussed logistics of how to get the children home. The change in Rumplestiltskin's appearance startled Morraine speechless at first, but she soon volunteered information to assist in the efforts. As they ventured back to their village, the veil that had been thrown asunder during their initial reunion to show love's mystery and delight fell back into place. She only imagined the possibility of a kiss, she told herself. For if he wanted to kiss her, wouldn't he try again? And alas, he did not.

Before the curse Rumplestiltskin used to chat with her when Baelfire wasn't around. She would always reciprocate by asking about his spinning because it was nice to hear the normally quiet, soft-spoken man pontificate about his passion. But since his change, she became simply "Baelfire's friend" – completely nameless, as he was too busy gaining magic and power to remember someone as lowly as her. She embraced the anonymity, especially when so many people ended up dead. At her parents' insistence, she no longer set foot in Baelfire's house and instead he came to hers.

Because the other children ostracized Baelfire, Morraine spent a great deal of time alone with him. Morraine didn't fear Rumplestiltskin because she sensed a glimmer of good still resided within the man. Still, she wasn't taking any chances and thanks to her training in the Ogre Wars, she became adept at determining when Rumplestiltskin was leaving and returning so she could stay out of his way.

Baelfire and Morraine's relationship was not the same since she returned — and Morraine didn't quite understand why. They seemed to be stuck in limbo, in a stasis of some kind — unable to move forward to something more or backwards to their carefree days before the curse and the war. There was an innocence lost on both their parts, mixed with a twinge of sadness about their own lives. Occasionally there was a glimmer of glee like they had in their younger days, and she held onto it as long as she could to enjoy the short-lived ride. She tried what she could to propel them forward, but Baelfire ignored all her signals. In hopes of bringing happiness back to Baelfire's life, she suggested he talk to Ruel Ghorm to see if the Ultimate Power could break the curse. He liked that idea and told her he'd try. Morraine smiled as she slipped away. There may be a distance between them, but the one thing that remained steadfast was their dependence on each other. Morraine knew that no matter what happened between them, that would never change — and she was grateful for it.

One autumnal evening two months after her return, Morraine sat at her windowsill looking at the stars and wishing that Baelfire could love her even half as much as she loved him. A tapping noise outside disturbed her dreaming and she was shocked to discover Baelfire standing outside, throwing pebbles to get her attention.

She opened her window. "What are you doing?"

"Meet me in the field," he instructed. "I need to talk to you."

"Ok," she answered. She closed the window and took a deep breath. What did Baelfire need to talk to her about at this time of night that he couldn't talk to her about from his bedroom window? Did he follow her advice and talk to Ruel Ghorm? She bit her lip and beamed as she threw on her robe. She loved that he was always the first person who he told important things like that to. Then her eyes widened. Maybe, just maybe, he wanted to tell her that he felt the same way as her, to kiss her under the moonlight like she'd been fantasizing since the day she'd been taken away from him?

No, she sighed to herself as she descended the ladder of her loft. Boys never thought about romantic things like that. He probably won a bet and wanted to show her the marbles that were his prize. Something silly like that.

But what if he did want to kiss her? She quickly assessed her appearance in the mirror and puckered her lips. She shook her head.

"Stupid," she mumbled to herself. She refused to get her hopes up.

She exited the house, pulling her robe tightly around her, and met him in the field.

"What is it?" she asked as she approached him.

"I talked to Ruel Ghorm and I found a way for my father to lose the magic and for us to be together like we used to."

Morraine beamed. "That's great, Baelfire! I'm so happy for you." She wanted to hug him, but she instead folded her arms in front of her, uncomfortable in front of him wearing such a light nightgown and robe when she knew how cold – and what showed – through such thin fabric. "What do you have to do?"

He showed her a clear bean. "This bean will open a portal to a land without magic. He and I will cross the portal and be free of the curse forever."

Morraine replayed Baelfire's words in her mind. "Crossing a … portal? A land without … magic?"

Baelfire nodded, returning the bean carefully to his pocket.

"But that sounds so …" Morraine searched for the right word, "… final. When will you come back?"

"That's just it; we won't," Baelfire explained calmly. "So I wanted to say goodbye." He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "It's been … very nice … being friends with you … and I'll never forget you."

Morraine looked aghast. This couldn't possibly be happening. She'd fallen asleep at the windowsill waiting for him and she was having a nightmare.

Baelfire stepped toward her, licked his lips and looked at her own. "Um," he began and his voice trailed off as he awkwardly extended his arms, but she was too stunned to notice. When she didn't approach, he nonchalantly swung his arms down, as if he only meant to extend them for circulation. He gazed at the ground and pretended that his step toward her was an attempt to move around her. His shoulder tapped hers as he walked past.

"So long," he mumbled.

She turned and watched his back as he strode away. She closed her eyes and replayed his words to fully comprehend what happened. By the time she had, he was already out of sight.

She shuffled home in a daze and climbed the ladder back to her loft. She looked at the ball — their ball — that rested on her dresser. Now it would be just hers.

That's when the tears came.

She heard rummaging outside and knew Baelfire and Rumplestiltskin were leaving. Her blood began to boil. She grabbed the ball with one hand and opened her window with the other.

"Hey!" she called to them, her anger intensifying exponentially.

Baelfire looked up as she hurled the ball at his head.

"OW!" he howled as the ball struck him hard.

"You forgot YOUR BALL!" she yelled.

Baelfire's eyes flashed and his next words dripped with venom.

"Keep it. I can always get another."

He glared at her before he rounded the corner, coaxing his father along and disappearing from sight.

That glare became emblazoned on her brain.

She threw herself on the bed and sobbed. Was this to be their last encounter? What a tragedy!

No, she told herself resolutely as she wiped her tears away. No, she would not allow it. This was not the way to end things. She had to remain strong. She should have one last GOOD memory of him – and he of her — if they were never to see each other again. She would offer support as a best friend should. She just needed to get through this. Then she could break down.

And be miserable forever.

She ran down the main street, through the field and into the woods, only to be met by Rumplestiltskin stumbling around in a daze.

She looked around him, past him. "Where … where … where is Baelfire?" she asked, turning in all directions.

"Gone," Rumplestiltskin whispered, staring into space. "Gone."

"What?" she asked, processing Rumplestiltskin's words. "What?" she breathed, still processing. "WHAT?" she shrieked. "No, no he isn't! He can't be gone. Not yet. I … I didn't get a chance to say goodbye! Not the way I should have! No… no, he can't be gone!" She twirled around, expecting him to step out from behind a tree at any moment as punishment for her anger, ready to forgive her.

This was her fault. She had been the one to suggest Ruel Ghorm. None of this would have happened if she hadn't tried to be helpful. None of this would have happened if she hadn't loved him so much and wanted more than anything to see him happy again.

She heard of people's lives flashing before their eyes as they were about to die. But she never heard of what happened to her: seeing the life she could have, the life she was supposed to have, flash into oblivion. The first kiss, the first declaration, the first time. The first vows, the first house, the first marriage bed. The first baby, the first birthday, the first steps. The first school projects, the first empty nest, the first grandchild. So many firsts gone, all gone. Never experienced, never gained, never coming back.

"You robbed me of my future!" she screeched, her voice hoarse and strained. "You ripped it away from me!" She pushed Rumplestiltskin as hard as she could. "Why didn't you go with him? Why are you still here? He did this all for you! He gave me up for YOU! And you let him leave — without going with him!"

She pounded her fists against Rumplestiltskin's chest. She didn't care if he turned her into a snail and stepped on her. That would be preferable to living a day without Baelfire.

Rumplestiltskin grabbed her arms. "I am going to get him back!" he vowed through clenched teeth. "I will not rest until we can be together again! Just you watch. I'll do it. I have all the time in the world, and it will be my sole purpose."

Realizing that he was serious, she stumbled backwards and out of his grasp. He stepped back himself, assessed her keenly, and then rushed past, his cloak furrowing in the wind until he disappeared into the night.

She shuffled home and stood outside Baelfire and Rumplestiltskin's house, now dark and deserted. She pressed her face against one of their windowpanes and the pale moonlight illuminated an empty interior.

She raced to the alley between their houses and looked for the ball she threw at Baelfire. But like all Baelfire's personal effects, it had disappeared. As she tried to open Baelfire's front door, a shock jolted her backwards. She flexed the fingers of her injured hand; magic surrounded the house, forbidding her entrance.

She clenched her fists and cursed Rumplestiltskin. "You bastard! That wasn't your ball to take! That was OURS. OURS, not yours." And she felt the raw loss just as keenly as she had a few minutes before.

Her parents staggered out the front door.

"Morraine, what's going on? What's the matter?" her mother asked.

Morraine collapsed into her mother's arms and sobbed. "Baelfire's gone. He's gone."

Her parents summoned the doctor, who gave Morraine a tea that tasted funny. She lay in her bed feeling woozy and listened as her parents discussed her downstairs with words like "traumatic event" and "hysteria." She also heard them speak of Rumplestiltskin and Baelfire followed by the word "murder." Let the whole village think that, she told herself. It didn't feel that far from the truth.

She dozed involuntarily until the sound of rain on the roof revived her. She longed to feel it pelt her skin rather than the numbness that now enveloped her. She opened her window and poked her head outside. She closed her eyes and let the rain soak her. She extended her arms, welcoming the sensation, and opened her eyes. As rivulets ran down her face, she stared at the window across from her, a window that would never open again, not until his return.

And he would return. She would see to it. Fire and Rain, they were called. Elements of the gods. Destined to be together no matter what barriers life put in their way. She felt the rain revitalize her, empower here. If Rumplestiltskin could devote the rest of his long, miserable life to reuniting with Baelfire, so could she.

"You came to my rescue," she addressed the starless sky above. "Now I'm coming to yours."

Morraine followed destiny's path while Rumplestiltskin followed his own. A teenage girl and the world's most powerful wizard, both working toward the same purpose — but separately.

And the teenage girl would be the one to succeed.


	4. A Land Without Magic

Antonio stood at the edge of Long Wharf in the dark and listened to the buoys clanging in the tide. He had just finished wrapping his legs in chains that ended in lead weights. It was apropos, really. He had been so tied down by life that it was only seemed proper for him to manifest his burdens physically. Maybe this time, he could finally escape this hell. He'd been cursed with the inability to age, but at least death could still reach him. All he needed to do was jump.

He hesitated. He clenched his eyes shut and thought of HER. Her hair, her smile, her laughter. Their last day together, with promises made and unfulfilled. He wanted her to be his last thought before the end. He raised his foot above the water and shifted his weight forward.

"Daaa, daaa, daaa, DUM."

Antonio's eyes shot open in shock at the sound of a gong. He turned his head toward the new Custom House Clock Tower. He heard a bell that never rung, for a clock that never worked.

And yet the clock read the correct time: 8:15pm. He stared at if for a few seconds, comprehending its meaning. And then he worked as fast as he could to free himself.

The city residents rejoiced as he pushed past them — finally those fat cats in the federal government had done something right with taxpayers' hard-earned dollars. But Antonio knew that something was wrong.

The clock tower bell was an alarm for someone coming through the portal.

He climbed 24 flights as if they were 24 steps, and paced anxiously at the top of the tower he had helped build, waiting anxiously to see who would come through. Could it be HER? No, it was too much to hope for. But still…

A flash of green light above him caused Antonio's eyes to widen and his pupils to dilate. He rushed underneath the portal and extended his arms, ready to catch HER. Instead, a boy fell through. The green light flashed once more and the portal disappeared.

Antonio looked at the boy in his arms in shock. The boy looked back at him with the same expression.

"Who are you?" Antonio asked, slightly disturbed and enormously disappointed.

"Who are you?" Baelfire queried.

"I asked you first," Antonio grimaced.

Baelfire cowered in this strange man's arms. "I'm Baelfire."

"And I'm Antonio," the strange man answered as he let Baelfire slide from his arms. Antonio's hand ran down his face. "A boy? A BOY?!" he asked incredulously. "And one that hasn't even been magicked!" He sniffed Baelfire's head. "Although you are no stranger to it. I can smell it on you." Baelfire noticed the intensity in this strange man's gaze in reaction to his smell, and he stumbled backwards.

Antonio sneered in response and clenched his fists, angry for his moment of weakness longing for magic. "You must have used a bean to come through the portal," he noted. "Where did you get it?"

Baelfire could not speak. Antonio repeated himself, but when Baelfire still did not answer, Antonio took an ominous step forward.

"That bean was not meant for you! I am NOT used to having to repeat myself. Now, for the last time, tell me: Where did you get it?"

Baelfire shuddered. "I … I… got it from Ruel Ghorm."

Antonio looked at Baelfire askance. "Ruel Ghorm? Who the hell is Ruel Ghorm?"

"The … the Blue Fairy. She also goes by the name the Blue Star."

Antonio looked bewildered. "Another fairy? And how did SHE get the bean? Killed a relative for it maybe?"

Baelfire shook his head and took a step back. "No, she said she was there when the beans spilled and that only one survived…"

"The BLUE fairy?" Antonio interrupted. "You don't mean Ruel Buidhe — the YELLOW Star? The YELLOW fairy? She was the only fairy there when the beans spilled."

Baelfire was overwhelmed. He looked at his surroundings in trepidation.

"I … I don't know," his voice wavered. His back bumped into the wall. "How … how do you know about the beans?"

Antonio's back straightened with pride. "Because I invented them. I was a wizard when I lived in your world."

"And … and what do you do now?" Baelfire asked.

Antonio grinned. "I STILL create beans. Baked beans, steamed in my own secret recipe of molasses." His face fell. "But I lost the business earlier this week gambling."

"I'm sorry," Baelfire whispered sadly.

Antonio shrugged. "It is what it is. I'll still work with the company as a 'consultant'." Antonio used his fingers to place quotes in the air around the word. "They wouldn't know how to run the business without me," he added, but without his usual bravado.

He lowered himself to floor and sighed, his train of thought turning to a different, less recent loss. "She wasn't the Blue Fairy then, you know. She was the Yellow Fairy then: Ruel Buidhe. Used to call her the Booty Star. She … didn't like that much." He smiled and looked wistful.

Baelfire relaxed slightly and gingerly sat beside him. "Something happened to make her blue, I suppose," he mused.

Antonio's lips quivered with emotion and his fists clenched again. "Well, I suppose it was inevitable because if she dared to show her face around me, she'd be black AND blue."

Something in Antonio's sad eyes, however, gave Baelfire the impression that he didn't quite mean what he was saying.

Antonio stood and dusted off his pants. He wiped his eyes, pretending that the dust he was wiping away had gotten into them. "I suppose that's it then. The bitch used the last bean to send a boy through who didn't need help. I have my answer from her. I should have jumped into the harbor when I had the chance."

Baelfire looked up at him. "But I did need help! My father is a spinner-turned-wizard whose soul became corrupted with power."

Antonio's eyes twinkled. "Ah, so THAT'S why I smell magic."

Baelfire's face hardened to stave off another approach. "How do I get back?" he asked.

"You don't," Antonio answered. "It's a one-way portal. Mostly because I never thought anyone would want to go back when I created it." He grimaced. "Wish I'd reconsidered."

Baelfire looked bewildered. "A portal? You created this one? Why? And what are you doing here?"

"I'd gotten cursed," Antonio impatiently rolled his eyes, as if these answers were things everyone from the Land of Magic should know. "And the only way to reverse that magic was to come here, where the curse wouldn't work."

"What curse?"

"Why, the ogre curse, of course! That's what I invented the beans for. To get the men who had been turned into ogres into a world where they could live normal lives."

"Ogres are men?!"

"Yes, cursed men," Antonio explained. "Until I could find a way to lift the curse, I could at least send them to a world where the curse wouldn't work. For years I worked on a cure — until I was cursed as well and became one of them. As my brawn increased, my brain capacity decreased, and I could no longer produce the beans. I had been too proud to write the formula down; I didn't want anyone else producing it except me. And why would I ever forget it?" He rolled his eyes. "And so the formula died with the wizard."

"But how does one get the curse?"

Antonio looked sadly in the distance. His jaw clenched. "By betraying one's true love."

Baelfire gasped. "You betrayed your true love?"

Antonio nodded and delicately tried to explain. "In the eyes of a witch who had been betrayed, I was abetting the enemy by sending ogres to this land and letting them escape punishment. And if a witch is dedicated and artful enough in the ways of disguise, she can make you betray your true love without your knowledge. That's what happened to me."

Baelfire gasped. "But if you were tricked, that's not fair!"

Antonio shrugged. "The curse is equal opportunity. It doesn't care if you were tricked or not. It doesn't care about your intentions — or if you were a dumb schlub so in love and wanting to believe that everything she was saying to you was true." He looked into the distance sadly. Then he looked at his feet and shook his head.

"An ogre and a fairy?" he continued. "A wizard and a fairy might work, but an ogre and a fairy is even worse than a dwarf and a fairy — and just as unlikely. We were doomed. I should never have even considered…" His voice trailed off.

Baelfire sighed. Adult relationships were far too complicated. And he thought dealing with Morraine was hard enough.

Morraine. He gulped, trying to combat the lump that arose in his throat. He couldn't think about her now — or ever again. They didn't leave on good terms. He had to forget her.

He tried to banish her from his mind by changing the subject. "But I thought true love was the most powerful magic in the land! That it brings about the forces of good!"

"And that is the biggest fallacy in all the realms that people swallow hook, line and sinker: that True Love is on the side of GOOD." Antonio shook his head and chuckled. "True Love is sinister. Once it weaves its way into your life, you can never be rid of it, much like the ogre curse I was trying to combat. It stays with you forever, its thorns embedding themselves deeper, unsatisfied until it's permeated every fiber of your being and torn you apart. It fools you into thinking you have strength while it secretly makes you weak. It's the most powerful drug in all of the realms, completely distorting your mind and whisking you away from reality. And somehow everyone considers this a GOOD thing."

Baelfire was speechless.

Antonio's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Sorry to scare you, kid. It's just … it's just been a very rough day." He scratched the back of his head. "Come on, come with me. I'm the self-appointed welcoming committee for people who arrive through the portal."

Baelfire rose and dusted himself off indignantly. "I hope you don't greet them the way you greeted me!"

Antonio laughed. "I like you, kid. You have spunk. I haven't had to greet anyone in awhile, so you'll forgive me for being a little bit rusty. I wasn't exactly expecting this."

He escorted Baelfire down the 24 flights of the stairwell. As they exited, people in the lobby approached Antonio with their complaints.

"Dammit, the clock has stopped working again!" one shouted.

"A pity, a great pity," Antonio lamented as he strolled past them. "They'll figure that clock out soon enough." He pushed Baelfire out the door with him to avoid being accosted.

Baelfire stopped in his tracks on the sidewalk as he viewed his surroundings in wonder. People were walking past in funny clothes that he would later learn were in the Edwardian style, and carts were moving without horses!

"Antonio, I don't understand. You said this place had no magic! And yet I see it all around me!"

Antonio laughed. "My boy, that's not magic. That's science. That's engineering. That's good old fashioned ingenuity and sweat equity."

Baelfire's eyes sparkled, following a new 1914 Model T as it drove by. "Do you mean that I can learn to create something like that?"

"Absolutely," Antonio nodded emphatically. "And you don't have to sell your soul in the process like you do with magic. Science is a lot less fickle of a bitch than her magical sister." He paused. "And a lot less fun too. But," he paused for effect, "a hell of a lot more reliable — and that's what matters most."

Baelfire twirled around and looked up at the building he had just exited as it rose into the dark sky.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"That is a clock tower, my boy. Custom House Tower. I helped build it."

"Why would you build something so tall?" Baelfire asked.

"Well, we couldn't have a giant beanstalk growing in the middle of Beantown, could we? Local government wouldn't have that. So we had to create something to reach the portal that the beanstalk grew up to — and once we did, we could destroy the beanstalk."

Baelfire was having trouble following. "Beanstalk? Beantown?"

Antonio extended his arms. "Welcome to Beantown, kid. At least that's what we Magicked folk once called it. Today the locals call it 'Boston'." He stuck out his tongue at such a distasteful name.

"Now come on," Antonio instructed, "let's get you a job and a room at my boarding house. Today is the first day of the rest of your life … in the Land of Science."


End file.
